


Paperbound

by godtiermeme



Series: A - S - L [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), American Sign Language, Deaf Dave Strider, F/F, Gen, M/M, Modern Setting, Mute Dave Strider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: A companion fic toInkbound.Rose Lalonde is an award-winning author, the fiancée of a troll from space, and the cousin of an antagonistic asshole with his own relationship issues. This is a tale of how she juggles all three.





	1. Southampton

**Author's Note:**

> **I recommend that you read[ _Inkbound_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9177052/chapters/20831239), too, but I'm hoping to make this fic with enough meat to be a standalone.**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, I'm naming chapters after songs. This one is from the _Titanic_ soundtrack, composed by James Horner. If you're so inclined, you can [**check it out here**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ra-zp1BwtJ8). None of this is beta'ed, also as usual.

The lights beaming down on you are hot and unrelenting, and the black outfit you'd chosen for the interview doesn't help. The seat you've been provided with is little more than a metal folding chair, and it lacks any sort of padding. Thus, the moment the interviewer concludes your segment, you bolt from the stage. You pick up a water bottle from the backstage staff and chug. You wander down the hallway and, after a few moments, arrive in front of your dressing room door. As you're merely a guest on the talk show, you quietly pocket the little placard with your name on it. You open the door and step inside, where you find a sign you've become accustomed to in the past few days.

"You did wonderfully, Rose," your fiancée, a troll by the name of Kanaya Maryam, says. A wide grin is spread across her face, and she swiftly presents you with a large bouquet of flowers. You've received one per interview, and this is your sixth. Nevertheless, she offers up her usual brand of dry humor, "Another customary flower bundle to congratulate you on a successful interview. This seems on par with human traditions."

"Human tradition also dictates that you not receive so many flowers that you're almost obligated to book another taxi just for the arrangements," you retort, smirking. You take the bouquet, set it into the vase you prepared before going onstage, and drop onto the nearby sofa. You pull your usual pink hairband from your hair and shove it into your purse.

Kanaya, meanwhile, sits down beside you. She brushes some of the hair from your face and offers you a small kiss on the cheek. From there, she begins to put her arm over your shoulder.

You, however, are forced to stop her. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you have a good idea of who is calling.

It seems she does, too. For the briefest of moments, you think you see a look of annoyance flash across her face. Regardless, she rises to her feet, saying, "I assume it's your cousin?"

You pull your phone from your pocket. The screen confirms your suspicions. An image of your cousin smiling—something rarely captured in photo—occupies your screen. It's an image you're quite fond of (though you'd never tell him). It was taken at the annual Deaf Culture meetup back in Skaia, and you're certain he doesn't even know you have it. None of this is relevant, though. What's relevant is the fact that, for the umpteenth time, your cousin has interrupted your life. You might hold some fondness for him as a person and relative, but you're in no way immune to growing fed up with his bullshit. A long sigh escapes you, and you set your phone atop your vanity before answering his FaceTime request.

He greets you with a more enthusiastic demeanor than usual. For the first time in quite a while, there's a smile on his face. His words are, as usual, in sign language.  _"My dearest cousin,"_ he begins, pouting like a petulant child,  _"Can I ask you a favor?"_ A black wire is visible, spanning from behind his ears to somewhere in front of the camera. You know this is the cord connecting his cochlear implant to his phone, which means that you can simply speak to him rather than signing.

You groan. As you speak, you begin gathering your things. "Dave, I'm absolutely flattered that I'm your chosen confidant, and I'm fully aware that it's because John turned down your romantic advances. I must sincerely advise you, however, you find someone else to speak to." At this point, you stop. You turn to face the camera, then continue, "What do you need?"

_"I didn't get most of the first part."_ Dave frowns. His eyes wander away from the camera.  _"Can you repeat that? It's been a long day, and I'd like some lip movement to help me out."_

After a brief moment of consideration, you wave your hand dismissively. "It was nothing," you grumble. "What're you calling me about?"

_"The cute troll at Mage's Emporium spoke to me today."_ Dave grins. There's a distant look in his eyes, as if he's imagining something.  _"He really loves your stuff."_

"Wonderful." You fold your arms across your chest and eye your cousin over. His posture is like a coiled spring, full of wild energy. When he's like this, you know that nothing good can come of it. "Look, you need to calm down. I understand that you're wildly infatuated with this... This..."

Dave pauses. He makes a few noncommittal vocalizations.  _"His name is Karkat."_ He spells the name out, letter by letter, for your convenience.  _"He's a grouchy fucker, but he's cute."_

"You know what happened with John," you warn, "I advise that you not pursue this line of thinking until you know more about him."

_"He's very gay."_ Dave's reassurance is accompanied with a snort of laughter.  _"I just get that gay vibe from him."_

You find yourself uncertain of what exactly to say to this. Eventually, you manage to come up with a semblance of a response. "I... Suppose... You could theoretically... Garner from his... General disposition...?"

A snap from Dave silences you. He interrupts.  _"My question is whether or not you can send me something for him. I was thinking a signed book?"_

"I'd have to know more about him to do that, Dave," you say, returning to your usual, composed state. "I'll think about it."

Again, Dave pouts. Nevertheless, he offers an understanding nod.  _"Think about it. You're still off interviewing, right?"_

"That would be correct."

_"Fantastic. Then, maybe, when you get back...?"_

"Maybe," you repeat. "I have to go, Dave. My fiancée and I were about to engage in some wonderful romantic activities." Before your cousin can respond, you hang up.

You gather your things with the utmost haste, then retreat to your hotel room.

As you expected, Kanaya is there. She's spread her work out on the king-sized bed. Papers, each covered in red markings, are scattered everywhere. Nonetheless, the minute she realizes you're in the room, she gathers them into her arms. You assume that she can read the tired look on your face, as she says, "I assume your conversation with Dave went as well as every other?"

"He's been calling me constantly about Karkat." You know that Kanaya knows this, but you say it again.

She nods. When you sit down on the bed, she comes to massage your shoulders. "I know him."

"You do?" You let forth a thoughtful sigh and gently push her hands away from you. Then, you fall back. As you sprawl out on the bed, you find yourself staring at a tiny dot of discoloration on the popcorn ceiling. "What's he like?"

"A bit of an abrasive guy, but his heart is in the right place."

You file this information in the back of your mind. Then, without really thinking about it, you pull Kanaya onto the bed with you. You point your finger at the ceiling, towards the yellow spot on the ceiling, and comment, "Doesn't that bother you?"

"As you humans would say, it does get under my skin." Kanaya nods. "We'll only be here for a few more days, though, so it's not really our problem."

"True."

"We could still comment about it when we check out, though. Is that permissible?"

"Certainly." You grin. You breathe in Kanaya's scent. After so much time spent with her, it's beginning to fade. Still, you can register it. It's a damp scent, but it's laced with an implacable floral aroma. You assume these all belong to things you've never seen on a planet you've never been to, and you never press the issue.


	2. Sunslammer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to guess most readers know this one, but **[here's a link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0haC4QkPO0)** anyhow.

Today is the last day of your television stint. The interviews are over, and there's little left for you in New York. Thus, you've packed your things and begun the journey back. The trip is, according to your GPS, to last about ten hours. Both you and Kanaya have agreed that there's little point in rushing the affair, as there aren't any important things planned for the next week or so.

Right now, the two of you have pulled over at a roadside overlook. The view is nice, though you wouldn't qualify it as remarkable. There's a large vertical cliff face, and a a thin waterfall seems to originate near its center. Hawks nest on the rocks, and you can see a few currently occupied nests.

"Your interviews went well," Kanaya comments. Her voice pulls your eyes from the average vista, and you quirk your brows inquisitively. "I've gotten about halfway through the next book, too."

"Splendid." You respond. You fold your arms across your chest and breathe a long, pensive sigh. "Anything you want to do on the way back?"

"Not necessarily," Kanaya shrugs. She brushes some stray hairs from her face and eyes you over. You know that she doesn't believe that you know she's staring at you, but you can see her. "No, wait. I've seen a few signs lately. They advertise something called miniature golf. I've heard of the sport, but I've never played it."

You pause. The commentary confuses you, though you quickly remember that Kanaya has only been on Earth for about five years. Your fingers tap against the metal overlook railing as you think about how to explain things. "You've seen golf, right? Regular golf?"

"Yes. It's an incredibly boring sport." Here, Kanaya pauses. She hums thoughtfully, only to quickly add on to her statement, "I've seen it on television. I don't believe it to be entertaining, though I can see its possible value."

"That's more than I can say," you mutter. (In your opinion, golf is an inexcusably boring pursuit. Beyond that, it wastes large swathes of otherwise useful land.) "Well, it's just like that. The courses are much smaller, though, and it's less tedious. The courses also have colorful statuary and fun sets. Windmills seem to be popular."

"Full sized windmills take up a lot of space," Kanaya says, her eyes narrowing, "How, then, are the courses smaller?"

"They're miniature windmills," you clarify. "They're incredibly cute. Dave used to drag me along to them from time to time, often alongside John. I also enjoy going to the Skaian miniature golf course with Jade. She's surprisingly good."

"Really? Jade is the one with the long hair, correct?" The edges of Kanaya's lips—which, today, are coated with black lipstick—twitch downwards, forming a small frown. "I'm still trying to sort out your friends."

"You've got it right."

"Mhm." The frown fades, and it is quickly replaced by a smile.

"So, I assume you want to go mini golfing? The course is about twenty minutes down the road, and it seems to be near a motel."

"Motels are the seedy sort of temporary residence, right?" Kanaya's smile turns to a smirk.

"You've got it." At this point, you pull a halfway eaten bag of Gummy Grubs from your pocket. You pull one from the packet and offer to Kanaya, then take one for yourself. While most humans don't enjoy the flavor, you find the bitter, slimy desert enjoyable. It's something out of the ordinary, and you've always appreciated the stranger things in life. Perhaps that's why you fell for an alien; at least, that's what Dave's often told you.


End file.
